


About You And Me

by joutb



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, More Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joutb/pseuds/joutb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to happen. But it's not like you are complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About You And Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first work for ao3, and my first Clexa fic. Hope you guys like it, and let me know whatcha think!

Two facts about you:

1- You hate parties;  
2- You have a mad crush on your best friend.

Still, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Yes, of course you only went to that stupid party at Well’s house because you wanted to see Clarke, but you were _fine_ with just seeing her. Okay, maybe you weren’t very pleased when you saw her making out with some random boy/girl, and even felt kind of sick when you saw her leaving with someone, but seriously. It was for the goddamn sake of your friendship, so yeah, you’d put up with that, even do the same with other people yourself, but –

This. Should. Have. Never. Happened.

Of course, you didn’t really plan it. You got a little frustrated when you saw Clarke sitting on the lap of that stupid Finn boy, and it only got worse when you got rejected twice. So yeah, _maybe_ it pissed you off and you had a little too much of a booze Raven got you, but just maybe.

You tried to make your way to the bathroom, but you didn’t trust your legs to help you upstairs without falling. You never drank that much, so the alcohol left you in a pitiful state. So you were actually glad when strong arms wrapped around your waist, helping you up. And you were even happier to find out that the one holding you was Clarke.

“Need a hand, Lex?” You nodded, quickly throwing an arm around her neck. She smiled happily, and you could tell she was drunk too. Really, really drunk. And maybe you shouldn’t trust her to help you upstairs, but hell, she was hundreds of times better than you. So you let her pull you upstairs, and you let her help you to the bathroom.

You tried to compose your dignity by at least making your way out of the bathroom alone, but you tripped and nearly fell on top of her. Clarke barked out a laugh, saying something about getting you drunk more often, or about what the hell did Raven give to you. But you weren’t really listening. She was just too close. And all you had to do was lean in a little bit to close the gap between your mouths, but –

But Clarke was faster.

You didn’t even process when your body was thrown against a wall, just to be pressed by Clarke's and to have your lips smashed by hers. She tasted like alcohol, but you didn’t care. You were pretty sure you tasted the same.

You didn’t stop her when she pushed you to the first empty room that you could find. You didn’t stop her when she threw you into bed, or when she started undressing herself in front of you, or even when she unbuttoned your jeans, dripping her fingers under your underwear. You kissed her senseless, hand buried on her blonde hair as she moved her fingers inside you.

You didn’t stop her. But you should have.

You marked all her skin. You remember biting, sucking, kissing and licking every spot you could, even with your drunken mind slowing your moves a little. You remember bumping heads with her, and her laughter lightening the air just before she pulled you to another kiss. You remember how she came, you remember her crying out your name and you remember her passing out after orgasming again.

You fell asleep right by her side, trying not to think on how weird this would be when you two woke up. You shouldn’t have done this. You shouldn’t.

But –

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

You woke up the next morning curled around her. There was blonde hair all over your face, making your skin tickle. Your head was pounding and –

You jumped out of the bed, gladly to find a trash can just by the door. Well fuck. Wells wasn’t going to be happy about that.

As you emptied your stomach, you felt your hair being pulled back. Clarke mumbled some soft words to you as she kept running her hand through your back. “Jeez.” She muttered, as you struggled to compose yourself. “I hope that’s not because of me.”

“Shut up.” You grumbled, walking back to bed in between stumbles. She followed you, arm moving smoothly around your middle. She pulls you towards her, her front pressing against your back. “Clarke –“

“We should really sleep.” She muttered, lips pressing to your temple. “It’s early.”

You didn’t argue.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

You don’t talk about it.

Within a week, your lives went back to normal, like nothing had ever happened. And you don’t talk about it, but there is an unspoken agreement that it should be a one-time  
thing.

Except it isn’t.

It happens again, but this time you are both sober. She comes over to your place to have dinner and complain about her stupid, sexist boss. You don’t drink; you don’t feel safe drinking around her anymore. But you don’t have to.

You don’t know exactly how it happened. You were both sitting on the couch, laughing about something Clarke said when suddenly you are laying on the couch with her on top of you already unbuttoning your shirt.

And it’s not a two time thing either. It happens again, on the bathroom of a restaurant, in Raven’s room, and also in her office, and –

It becomes a thing. She comes over, or you meet up, and you have sex. Just that. No hand holding outside, no kisses, no hugs, no sweet and caring words. And it shouldn’t bother you at all, because you actually managed to sleep with your crush and to remain friends.

(But it does)

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Another two facts about you:

3- You are a book worm;  
4- You are helplessly in love with your best friend.

You take every little opportunity you have to touch her. Not just in a sexual way, but when you see Clarke reaching out to grab something, you do the same move, just to brush your hands. When you walk together, you lean over her a little, claiming to be cold. You create imaginary crumbs of something she just ate just to wipe it out of her face yourself.

And yes, you are very aware of how pitiful that is, but you don’t care at all.

It’s all you have, for a matter of fact.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Two facts about Clarke:

1- She’s not in love with you;  
2- She never spends the night.

And you seriously want to hate her for that, because it’s _not fair_. When you fall asleep, she’s always there. But when you wake up, she’s just gone. And it gets you angry, because she keeps feeling up your hopes, keeps making you think that maybe today she’ll be here, but she never is, and you hate her.

Except you don’t.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

And then one day she stays.

You wake up earlier than usual, just to find yourself wrapped on her arms, nose buried on her neck. And you have to look twice to make sure she’s actually there, that this is actually real. And she’s awake. She stopped stroking your hair when you moved, eyes darting back to your face.

“You are here.” You mutter, allowing her to pull you back to her arms.

“It’s early. Go to sleep.”

Again, you don’t argue.

And the next time you wake up, your bed is empty. Your heart tightens up, and you feel like you are on the edge of tears, but then the smell of brewed coffee strikes you. So you get up and walk to your kitchen, just to find her in one of your college’s old shirt making breakfast. And you don’t get it, you seriously don’t get it.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” She grins as you walk closer to her. “Do you want some bacon? Sure you want, I don’t even know why I bother asking.” You rest your chin on her shoulder, peeking on the frying pan. She turns her face slightly, kissing your face.

“Clarke.” You back off a little, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why are you still here?”

Her shoulders get tense, and for a moment, you regret asking. “Do you want me to go?” She asks, after a few seconds in silence.

“No. No, I don’t. It’s just that you –“

“Can you grab two mugs, Lex? Coffee is almost done.” She interrupts, choosing to ignore your last sentence.

You don’t bring it up again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

You still don’t talk about it.

She comes over more often now, and you are staying over at her place sometimes as well. You don’t have sex as if the world was going to end anymore, though you still have. Lots of it, to be honest. But not every night. Not in that way.

She makes dinner sometimes. She kisses your face with no reason, she holds you. There’s cuddling during movie time, there are sweet texts during the day. She always spends the night now, and it makes your heart melt every time you wake up to a sight of a sleeping Clarke.

She likes when you read for her. And she listens to your rants about all tons of books you read without complaining, and she even asks questions. And then you kiss her, because that’s the only way you know of showing how much you appreciate that she listens.

And it feels like everything has changed.

Except it hasn’t.

You act like normal friends in public. No hand holding, no kisses, no sweet nothings. And you still go to parties just to see her, and you can’t really control that anger boiling inside you whenever you see her being maybe a little too friendly with someone else. It always makes you storm out of the room, and although you ended up going home with her all the times it happened, you still hate it.

Because, fact n° 2, Clarke isn’t in love with you.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Except.

One night, it all becomes too much. Raven made you a drink, or maybe three, and you became a mess. And it didn’t make you feel any better when you saw Clarke being too nice with Bellamy, leaning against a wall and chatting with him. If you weren’t too drunk, you’d just let it go, because you _know_ they are just friends. But drunken Lexa didn’t know so, or at least chose to think otherwise, so you stormed out of Well’s house without further explanation.

“Lexa!” You heard her calling you, but you didn’t slow down. You could hear Clarke struggling to keep up with your pace. “Hey, come on. I’m not a runner.” She wrapped both arms around you, forcing you to stop walking. “What’s wrong?”

“I – I can’t.” She sent you a confused look, and you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t do this anymore. I-it might not mean anything to you, b-but it does to me.” She frowned, and was about to say something, but you untangled yourself from her, walking away.

You didn’t dare to look at the hurt on her face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

“I’m gonna be Captain Obvious here, but you should talk to her.” Raven said, scrolling down the innumerous texts and calls on your phone. “I mean, it’s kinda rude to not even answer your damn phone, Commander.”

“I know, I just –“ You sighed, burying your face on your own hands. “I can’t keep up with it. I’m not good with this whole friend with benefits thing.”

Raven didn’t say anything for a while. It’s been two days, and you hadn’t called her. You couldn’t make yourself do so. “You really like her, huh?”

“I think I love her.”

Raven laughs, actually laughs on your face before throwing your phone back to you. “You know, for someone as smart as you, you can be really stupid sometimes, Lexa. Read your texts. Call your girl. Stop mourning. Oh, and get laid. You get awfully boring when you don’t.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

You don’t call her. You don’t have to.

She shows up at your door an hour after Raven left. And she’s a mess.

“You didn’t call.”

You give her room to get inside. She goes to your couch, not waiting for an invitation to sit down. She had been crying. You feel guilty about that.

You stay in silence, side by side. You want to tell her. But you don’t know how. You don’t find strength to speak, even though –

“Octavia got a dog. I think she’s trying to drive Bellamy mad.” She breaks the silence. Her hand unconsciously searches for yours, interweaving fingers. “I swear, he was just starting to get used to Lincoln, and then –“

“Clarke?”

“She shows up with a puppy. I mean, maybe she’s trying to coach him to move out with Raven –“

“Why did you start spending the night?”

And it may be a silly question, especially judging by the way she quirks a brow at you, almost like she were saying _you seriously have no clue?_ , and then you realize. Maybe you _do_ have a clue. Maybe you already know. But it felt just too good to be truth.

“Do you think he’s finally moving out?”

And, once again, you don’t talk about it. Not with words at least. You feel like you don’t need to.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Only later that night, when you are lying with your head on her chest, you speak.

“Clarke?”

“Yes, Lexa?”

“I love you.”

And she doesn’t answer immediately, hands carefully stroking your dark locks. She kisses your hair, moving her hands to yours.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

You have breakfast with Octavia and Raven the next day. You show up holding hands.


End file.
